


Homecoming

by mysticowl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: My First AO3 Post, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticowl/pseuds/mysticowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, but there is no rest for a king, only a ruin of a home to rebuild and a sister to say goodbye to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [just_a_dram](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_a_dram/gifts).



Winterfell is home, but beyond that “home” means Arya, Bran and Rickon, and Robb, and his father... Eddard Stark, his... _Uncle Benjen, lost beyond the Wall, though I never stopped looking into the faces of the wights even as dragonfire purged them..._ his father, damn it all.  
  
He tried so hard to make the Wall home, but it was more of a forge, breaking and remaking him over and over again. It was dragonfire, too, that forged him anew for the last time. A Targaryen prince’s place is south, but a Targaryen bastard? _Always a bastard, in the end_.  
  
“I was a bastard, too, once.” Sansa’s voice comes from behind his right shoulder, responding to a thought he didn’t realize he spoke aloud. Jon turns away from the ruined castle that was once his home to face his... to face her. She’s looking at the place that was also her home, her expression unreadable. She didn’t use to be hard to read. He wasn’t close to her like he was to Arya _where are you, little sister? Sometimes I hear the wolves howl in the night_ , but he knew her then.  
  
“What are you talking about?” He frowns as he speaks.  
  
She transfers her gaze to him. “When Petyr Baelish smuggled me from King’s Landing to the Vale, he had me pose as his bastard. Alayne Stone. Alayne didn’t have any brothers, but Sansa had one left to her and she made sure she could see him in Alayne - bastard strong, just like him.”  
  
It takes Jon a moment to understand that she is speaking of him and the sudden knowledge that  throughout it all there was a Stark, family, thinking of him warms him.  
  
“We’re home now.” _It will all be well now_. He almost doesn’t recognize earnestness in his own voice. It’s been a long time since he’s had anything to be earnest about.  
  
Suddenly, Sansa’s blue eyes are sad. He sees it only for a moment before she masks her feelings and shakes her head. “ _You_ are home, Your Grace. We do not all have a king’s privelege to hold his court where he chooses. Lady Lannister belongs in Casterly Rock with her husband.”  
  
“A bastard king, it’s almost like one of your husband’s jests.” Jon tries to laugh, but his mouth twists into a bitter grimace instead. “I will order you to stay, then. I’m a king, I can give orders. You won’t have to go anywhere, we will stay here, me, you, and Rickon, and it will be like it was. It will be like in the stories you loved so well as a child: the war is over now, the beautiful lady gets to be happy.”  
  
“With a charming prince.” Sansa smiles lightly, placing a hand on his cheek. They are silent for a moment before she whispers, “Those were only stories, Jon.”  
  
She hides her feelings so well now, but he can hear it in her voice. That’s why he reaches for her and draws her into a hug. Her cold cheek rests against his as she embraces him in return, and it feels so right, suddenly, Sansa feels like home. Why hasn’t he thought of her when he thought of home before?  
  
“It won’t be home without you.”  
  
“The court is not a home,” she speaks, drawing away. She looks into his eyes, her expression grave. “Queen Daenerys learned that lesson when she sought a homecoming. The southern court is her burden now and this one will be yours.”  
  
“And no one to share it with,” Jon blurts out.  
  
Sansa draws in a sharp breath, then takes his hands into her own, squeezing tightly, though the thick gloves both he and she wear dulls the pressure. “Write to me. And I will write to you, the ravens will fly the path between Winterfell and Casterly Rock often.”  
  
He swallows and nods. Though Sansa is to stay with him here for a week before leaving to join Tyrion in the south, it feels like she’s saying goodbye already.  
  
“Daenerys exiled me to Casterly Rock because she is afraid of a Stark in Winterfell.” Sansa speaks with a ferocity so unlike her usual poised and lady-like self. “She hopes you will raise Rickon a Targaryen loyal, but, Jon, you are the Stark in Winterfell now. No matter what anyone says. Promise me you won’t forget that.”  
  
“I promise,” he responds with an intensity matching hers.  
  
Sansa smiles _like a sun warming the frozen ground through the clouds, how will I keep this place warm without her?_ and turns back towards the castle. They rode ahead of his court, but the wagons and horses are catching up now. Time to play king.  
  
“Come,” she says, tugging on his hand as she starts towards Winterfell, “let’s get you home.”


End file.
